


Warmer

by ivorydice



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cor makes a very brief appearance, Hurt/Comfort, No Plot/Plotless, Noctis centric, Swearing, can be seen a gen or ot4, kind of Noct whump?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-03 23:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorydice/pseuds/ivorydice
Summary: The darkness was so thick in front of him, it seemed almost as if it would swallow his hand whole if he reached out to touch it. He could feel so many eyes staring them down, hungry and just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, impatient creatures that they were.Noctis and his friends find themselves in a lot of trouble when they become stranded in a forest, completely surrounded by daemons.





	Warmer

**Author's Note:**

> Again, more plotless, pointless Noct-whump from me, except not quite whump? Just pure self-indulgence here, and I'm not even sorry, except for maybe the weird turn this story took. It didn't turn out how I expected it to, but MEH, whatever ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also, this was shamelessly inspired by an episode of Doctor Who, of all things. Weird, because I'm not even a huge fan of that show lol.
> 
> I've also taken a few liberties for fic purposes since, you know, daemons and daemon fights don't actually work like this?
> 
> You would not believe how hard it was to come up with a summary for this fic. ~~You would not believe your eyes, if you saw me summarize~~
> 
> Please kill me, I've drank too much caffeine and now I'm hyper AF ¯\\_(°∀°)_/¯

  
  
The forest was so very dark when it was night time. A no-brainer, really, but it was _darker_ than dark, it was nearly pitch black, vast and deep like the ocean, dense and clingy like oil. And it was made that much worse when there were _things_ lurking there in the dark.  
  
And the forest was _silent_ when it was night time, thick and oppressive, the kind of silence where even the slightest sound was ridiculously amplified, even something as simple as a tiny twig breaking, as if the whole place was rigged with microphones and they were surrounded by speakers.  
  
And there they were, crashing through the trees like a pack of coeurls, or a herd of garulas, or spiracorns, or _something_ , twigs snapping under their boots like breaking bones, leaves crunching underneath them, branches shaking and breaking as they slapped them away, fought through them, their faces scratched in some sort of retribution from nature. Gladio sounded like a gods damned _tank_ to the right of them, like an iron giant, and that thought would have been amusing if it wasn’t for the fact that an iron giant was so very _possible_ at the moment, and wouldn’t that just be grand? Wouldn’t that be the perfect addition to a perfect fucking night?  
  
Because the darkness followed after them. The treetops above shielded them from any help that the light of the moon could have provided, and so they were left swallowed in darkness, their flashlights only brightening some of the area up around their bodies, like tiny fireflies in a vast, black sea. And when they kept running, the trees were swallowed up behind them. The darkness was chasing them, _hunting_ them, and inside that darkness were daemons.  
  
An entire horde of them, shrieking and crying out and almost _laughing_ at them, trying to reach them with their claws and their weapons and their teeth and whatever _else_ they had on them.  
  
There was something else, too, and it was following them. Noctis wasn’t sure if it was just his brain being _so_ damn helpful - supplying him with even more paranoia in times of high stress - or if it was an actual _thing_ that maybe the others were aware of too, but there was something _cold_ in that darkness, keeping close to the edge. Not close enough to be visible, but not straying too far away either.  
  
A swing of a greatsword to his right, and a shriek as a daemon was hit, propelled backwards into the dark, slamming against trees before dissolving. Noctis had his own sword in his hand, and he was itching to turn around and put it to good use, but they had started running for a reason. Too low on potions and too many daemons, they had acquired a good number of injuries before they had decided it was best to turn tail and run. Noctis could still feel his t-shirt clinging to his side with sweat and blood. While he hated the idea of running away from a fight, sometimes it was just too damn necessary.  
  
As Prompto had said; run away, run away, live to fight another day.  
  
Somewhere further ahead, there was a flash and a gunshot and a panicked yell. Prompto firing away at things as he ran.  
  
Something jumped out in front of him. A goblin, claws already a blur of motion, catching him down his bare arm. Noctis hissed and swung his sword down, slicing right through it, then he jabbed forwards, skewering it on the end. It fell back with a strangled cry and dissolved.  
  
But there were more, and not just goblins, forming around them, trying to keep up with them as they ran. Noctis could hear them, could see the flurry of feet on the outskirts of the light.  
  
A muttered curse to his left. “Regroup!” Ignis yelled. “Form up, now!”  
  
They moved without hesitating. Noctis might have been the actual leader of the group, no doubt about that, but they listened to Ignis because he _knew_ shit and Ignis was _smart_. So they came together again, tiny fireflies in the dark forming into one beacon, and they found themselves pressing their backs to each other, facing out into the black sea before them, facing north, east, south, west. Except, who knew if they were actually pointing in any of the right cardinal directions, they had been spun around so many times. Not a good thing, either, considering they had to head north-west for the nearest haven, which was _still_ a large distance away.  
  
Last time they would ever come in a fucking forest.  
  
“What do we do?” Prompto said, and he sounded terrified. “Fuck, guys, what do we _do_?”  
  
“Keep your head in the game,” Gladio bit out. “You’re dead if you start losing it now.”  
  
Fuck them both, they didn’t even sound breathless after the endless running, meanwhile Noctis’s lungs were still burning, his chest heaving from the exertion. “Any bright ideas?”  
  
Prompto let out a chuckle. “Ha, bright, funny.”  
  
“Hilarious,” Noctis snapped back. “Seriously, anyone got _any_ ideas?”  
  
“We wait them out?” Gladio said. “Keep together like this, have our flashlights pointing out, and we wait until dawn. Sleep in shifts if we have to.”  
  
“But are these lights _enough_ for that?” Prompto asked.  
  
There was something _in_ there. The darkness was so thick in front of him, it seemed almost as if it would swallow his hand whole if he reached out to touch it. He could feel so many eyes staring them down, hungry and just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, impatient creatures that they were.  
  
But there was something else, too. Something a _lot_ more patient, something cold, and he could _feel_ its gaze on him, he could almost see it, as if it was right _there_ in front of him and staring him down. A cold chill ran over him, like ice being poured into his veins and freezing them over, and sweat began to trickle down his brow.  
  
They had to get out of there.  
  
“Does everyone still have their backup lights?” Ignis asked suddenly.  
  
“Yeah, and the _backup_ backup light,” Prompto answered.  
  
“Yeah, got mine,” Gladio said.  
  
Noctis nodded absently. “Me too,” he murmured.  
  
“All right. All of you, hand them to me, but do _not_ take your eyes away from the daemons. Stay on guard.”  
  
When going out and away from the Regalia or any havens, as Gladio had so helpfully pointed out once, it never hurt to be prepared for the worst case scenario. They all had backup flashlights in case the ones hooked to their jackets went out, and they had backups for the _backups_ for the exact same reason.  
  
Noctis had to admit, it was pretty good logic right now, when Ignis was clipping his own flashlight onto his belt, stripping his jacket off before bundling it up, attaching the eight backup lights to the material. The light around them became significantly brighter when he turned them all on, it warded the darkness off a little more and, with it, the daemons stepped back.  
  
“Damn it,” Gladio said, and he sounded like he was grinning. “You’re a genius, Iggy.”  
  
“Don’t praise me just yet, we still have some distance to go until we reach the haven. This might turn into a disaster.”  
  
Prompto snorted. “Always such a party pooper.”  
  
Noctis couldn’t take his eyes away from ahead of him, slightly to the left, and it was frustrating. He couldn’t _see_ anything, not really, but it felt like he was looking directly into someone else’s gaze anyway. Tingles ran along his skull, like fingertips, brushing along his hair and trailing down his neck. It made him feel sick and cold and _scared_.  
  
“Damn, how many do you think there are?” Prompto muttered suddenly. He shifted backwards slightly, bumping into Noctis, and he was practically _vibrating_ with nerves.  
  
“Ten,” Noctis said.  
  
“I think there’s a lot more than ten,” Gladio said.  
  
Ignis made a noise. “We’ve certainly bitten off more than we can chew this time.”  
  
“So, what’s the plan? We staying put or going?”  
  
Ignis held the jacket up in front of them, like a lantern. “Yes,” he said, “I think we should go, try and cover as much distance as we can with the lights like this. Try and keep in a tight formation, keep your eyes and ears on high alert.”  
  
“Can’t exactly _not_ be on alert right now, man,” Prompto laughed, but he still sounded nervous.  
  
Remaining closer together while trying to keep their eyes on their entire surroundings was a lot more difficult than it should have been. Noctis kept his sword out, as did the others with their own weapons, and he cursed himself for using up too much energy in the earlier battle. He had to be careful with warping now, and with his magic, otherwise he would simply land himself in stasis and be virtually _useless_ to them all.  
  
There was a strange, echoing sound, to the right of them, as if something _laughed_. Prompto cried out at it, jumping, his gun pointing in that direction, but he didn’t fire. “Man,” he said after a while. “It’s like one of those haunted house experience things. Y’know, the ones where you queue up at the door and then you go on inside on your own and all sorts of scary stuff happens?”  
  
Noctis glanced over at him. “Wouldn’t know, I’ve never been in one.”  
  
“Well, me neither, but I’ve heard about them and they’re supposed to be _terrifying_.”  
  
“Keep it together,” Gladio said, but his voice wasn’t unkind. “We’ve just gotta keep our heads on straight until we make it back to camp, and then you can freak out all you want.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m holdin’ you to that, big guy.”  
  
That _thing_ was following them. So was everything else, by the sounds of it, but it was that nameless, faceless _thing_ that was concerning Noctis the most. Just what was it? Why was he so aware of it? Was it an actual daemon or was he just being paranoid, focusing on any old sensation because of the tenseful situation?  
  
But it couldn’t just be nothing. He didn’t think so, because whenever his eyes strayed over to that area, an inexplicable chill ran through him, and it was too consistent to simply be paranoia.  
  
He tried shining his flashlight in that direction, but it wouldn’t reach. Either that, or the thing shied away so it couldn’t be seen. Oh gods, what if it _couldn’t_ be seen? An invisible daemon, that was _all_ they needed right now, that would be _so much_ fucking better.  
  
“Oh, _fuck_!” Prompto yelled and he started firing. Goblins were rushing out, braving the lighter space and attacking. He and Gladio made short work of them, shooting and tearing them down within seconds.  
  
Noctis stuck closer to Ignis, practically guarding him, protecting their major light source, and he swung his sword as a goblin made a move on their side. He had it down with a few short swings, his blade going straight through its throat as he pinned it to the ground, a flash of satisfaction running through him. “Nine,” he said.  
  
Ignis glanced down at him. “Many more than that, I’m afraid.”  
  
“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Prompto was saying as he and Gladio came closer. “Look, can we speed things up a bit, please? _Please_? I wanna get _out_ of here.”  
  
“We _all_ do, Prompto,” Ignis said. “Just stay calm. I’ll even cook you your favourite food when we get back to the haven.”  
  
“Oh, _man_.”  
  
‘Oh, man’ indeed. Sitting down around the campfire, eating Iggy’s food, playing King’s Knight together, the four of them safe and _away_ from the daemons. It all pretty much sounded like heaven right now, and Noctis wanted it to be a reality more than anything, he wanted to be _there_ already.  
  
But they had to keep moving, taking careful steps together instead of the aimless stampede of before. Ignis was leading them through the forest with his jacket-lantern held up high, _apparently_ going in the right direction, Noctis wasn’t sure about that, but it was _Ignis_ and Ignis always made it a personal mission to never, _ever_ make the wrong decision.  
  
“Ohhh, _gods_ ,” Prompto groaned suddenly. “I think I just saw an _arachne_ back there, oh shit—”  
  
“Prompto,” Gladio said. “Head in the game. Keep it. Remember?”  
  
“Can we just get _out_ of here?” Noctis bit out at them, beyond annoyed and stressed and feeling sick, possibly from all the adrenaline. “Let’s just head back to the haven so we can eight already.”  
  
Gladio glanced at him. “You mean eat.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”  
  
Except the daemons were getting more confident, jumping out at them randomly whenever they got too impatient, and the three of them worked on protecting Ignis, hoping beyond hope that the daemons wouldn’t get _smart_ on their asses and decide to take out their light source, because that would be the perfect fucking ending to a perfect day.  
  
The _thing_ was still there, that strange presence with its strange gaze, invisible eyes boring into him from the dark. Noctis swallowed past the lump in his throat, turning his head to look at it, to meet its gaze without actually _seeing_ it, and he fought back a shudder. Gods, but he felt sick, shuddery, his sweat prickling coldly in his hair and under his arms.  
  
When he forced his gaze straight ahead, Ignis was watching him carefully, eyes slanted his way under his glasses. “Everything all right, Noct?”  
  
_Nope. No way. Certainly not._ Noctis nodded, swallowing again. “Just fine.”  
  
But he _had_ to look at that thing again, almost like something was forcing him to, cold, skeletal fingers tracing along his jaw and turning his head for him. Noctis’s heart was jackhammering in his chest, uncomfortably so, the blood pulsing loudly in his ears and drowning out Prompto’s nervous rambling off to the right of him.  
  
What was that thing? What was it, what _was_ it?  
  
“Seven,” Noctis breathed.  
  
“What?” someone else said, Prompto or Gladio, he wasn’t sure, because they sounded distant, far away, as if they were underwater. Or maybe Noctis was, maybe _he_ was the one underwater, drowning in a sea of darkness.  
  
There were hands on his face, gently pulling him away from the shadows, and he was forced to look into Ignis’s concerned eyes in front of him. They had stopped walking, Gladio was now holding onto the jacket-lantern, even Prompto was up in his face, frowning with worry, and when had all this happened exactly? Noctis shied away from them, tried to pull backwards, but Ignis’s hands were tight and steady on his shoulders. “What are you doing?” Noctis said to them. “Get out of my face, we’ve got more important things to worry about.”  
  
“Noct,” Ignis said. He sounded relieved, and Noctis wondered if they had been talking to him this whole time and he just hadn’t been able to hear them. “Why did you say seven?”  
  
“What?” Noctis frowned, because, really, what? “I didn’t.”  
  
“Yeah, you did,” Gladio said.  
  
Noctis glared at them. “What are you talking about? I _didn’t_. We’ve got to keep moving, guys, the _daemons—_ ”  
  
“Are held at bay for now,” Ignis said. “And Prompto’s keeping watch.”  
  
He was. Prompto was close to them, yes, but he had his gun out and ready, glancing around, although his eyes were always drawn back to Noctis, his eyebrows drawn together, lips pursed. “Does he look pale to you? He looks kinda pale.”  
  
“We _all_ look pale, it’s just the light,” Noctis said. He made to walk forwards, to push past Ignis and Gladio, but they held him back. Noctis glared at them, unable to stop his growl of frustration as he snapped out, “Do you guys _want_ to die? Because we will if we don’t keep moving.”  
  
“First thing’s first,” Ignis said. “You have been counting down from ten, Noct, for the past couple of minutes. I want to know why.”  
  
Noctis stared up at him, exasperated. “ _What_ are you _talking_ about? I haven’t been doing anything!” The daemons seemed suddenly restless around them, as if they could sense the conflict, and Noctis glanced back over to his left, feeling those eyes on him again - they had never _left_ him, had they? - so very curious and intent. Could he see something moving there, in the place where he knew that _thing_ was? Were there feet? Was that a shape?  
  
“Dude,” Prompto was saying. “You’ve definitely been counting down now that I think about it. Why’re you counting, exactly?”  
  
“I’m _not_.”  
  
Ignis touched his face again, turning his gaze back to him once more, and he seemed even more worried now, his voice low and gentle as he said, “What do you keep looking at?”  
  
Noctis froze. “What?”  
  
“You keep looking in the same direction, as if there is something there. What is it? What do you see?”  
  
“I don’t know, I don’t _know_ ,” Noctis bit out and he shoved at Ignis, feeling beyond frustrated and scared and, damn it, he just wanted this night to be _over_ already. But Ignis wouldn’t move, he was taller and broader and stronger, not even flinching under Noctis’s push. “Get out of my face, I want to leave.”  
  
Gladio was frowning, mouth pursed together in a thin line. “We have to know what’s wrong with you, Noct.”  
  
“ _Nothing_ is wrong with me!”  
  
“You’re shaking,” Ignis said, and his hands trailed down from Noctis’s shoulders, holding onto his forearms. “You’re shaking and you’re pale. You keep looking off to something in the shadows, you have been counting down from ten and you don’t remember doing so. _Something_ is wrong.”  
  
Noctis glared at him again. “Yeah, you’re full of six, that’s what, you—” he clapped a hand over his mouth, suddenly feeling like he was going to throw up because he had said _six_ instead of _shit_ , he knew that now, and they were all staring at him with such wide, concerned eyes. Noctis swallowed and slowly lowered his hand. “I meant six.”  
  
Ignis and Gladio shared a look.  
  
“Shit!” Noctis said, insisting, hating that they were looking at him in that way. It made him nervous. “ _There_ , that’s—I meant shit.”  
  
“We know what you _meant_ , kiddo,” Gladio said quietly. “But why are numbers coming out instead? What’s he counting down to?”  
  
Ignis tugged one of his gloves off, raising his hand to Noctis’s forehead. Noctis winced, cringed back a little, more than a little self-conscious at the fact that he was sweating and it was bound to get all over Ignis’s hand, but the other man didn’t seem to mind.  
  
“You’re so cold,” Ignis murmured, his voice filtering in through a thick haze as Noctis felt that pull again, as he turned his head and let his eyes stray over to the darkness. Ignis took hold of his shoulders once more, squeezing. “Noct, what do you keep looking at? What’s there?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Noctis said, because he didn’t, he _didn’t_ , except was there a figure now, where there hadn’t been one before? Could he almost make out the eyes, the gaze that constantly seemed to hold his? Noctis took in a deep breath, appalled to find it was so shaky, that he was so dizzy. “I just...there’s something there.”  
  
“Yeah, daemons,” Prompto replied, but his voice was shaking, not at all confident.  
  
Noctis clenched his hands, surprised to find he was now fisting the material of Ignis’s shirt when he couldn’t recall doing so, his sword long forgotten and apparently discarded into the armoury. And still, _still_ , he couldn’t tear his eyes away, couldn’t stop from shivering. “Something,” he told them. “It’s _something_. It’s waiting.”  
  
Gladio grabbed his arm, fingers holding onto him tightly. “ _What_ is waiting?”  
  
“I don’t _know_.” It was worse than the paranoia. Fear latched onto him, with a vice like grip, claws digging into his skin, and he shuddered with it, his heart pounding so hard in his chest he felt like his skin would bruise from the assault. “We have to go,” he said, and he managed to pull his eyes away from the darkness, started shoving at Ignis, moving him forward. “Let’s go, we have to _go_.”  
  
“All right,” Ignis said, his voice soothing, grabbing at his hands and keeping him in place. “It’s all right, calm down now.”  
  
Noctis swallowed back a groan, because it most definitely wasn’t all right. Didn’t they know that? Surely being surrounded by daemons, surrounded by pure _darkness_ was enough to show them that nothing about this was all right.  
  
And yet Ignis and Gladio were talking over his head, quiet and concerned, as if they had all the time in the world to figure this out, as if they could simply just stand around and _wait_.  
  
“Could a daemon do this?” Gladio was saying. “Could one affect him psychologically, make him count down like that?”  
  
“Call Cor,” Prompto said suddenly.  
  
“What?” Ignis’s voice was sharp, surprised, but his hands were still on Noctis, gripping his shoulders again, keeping him close.  
  
There was the scuffle of feet and Prompto cursed, letting off a few shots. “Call Cor,” he repeated, more steadily this time. “Cor’s got more experience than any of us, he’ll know more about the daemons, right? Maybe he’ll know something about this.”  
  
“He’s got a point,” Gladio said.  
  
Noctis looked up at them. “Can we do it while we move? _Please_? I want to keep moving.”  
  
Ignis already had his phone in his hand, scrolling through it, but he looked up to share a glance with Gladio. After a moment, they nodded at each other, and Ignis, still keeping a grip on his arm, started walking, effectively pulling him along, following Gladio as the shield led the way.  
  
“Put him on speaker,” Gladio said. “I want to hear what he says.”   
  
Ignis fumbled with his phone, stepping carefully over fallen trunks and vines, apparently heedless of the daemons still following them outside their bright circle, sticking to them like glue. A moment later, the ringing tone came out of the speaker, too loud in the forest’s silence, making Noctis wince with it.  
  
“Come on,” Ignis muttered. “Pick up, pick up.”  
  
And then, after endless waiting, the ringing stopped. “ _Hello?_ ”  
  
Prompto let out a sudden cry, surprised, and he jumped forwards, firing at two more goblins that tried to rush for them. They didn’t get far, struck down by his bullets, and they were knocked back into the darkness as they dissolved.  
  
“Prompto!” Ignis hissed.  
  
“Sorry!”  
  
“ _Hello?_ ” Cor repeated, his voice a little more tense now. “ _Prompto? Ignis?_ ”  
  
“Marshal,” Ignis said. His hand tightened on Noctis’s arm as he brought the phone closer to his mouth. “My apologies for bothering you so late tonight, but we are in a bit of a situation and we need some advice.  
  
“ _Go on._ ”  
  
“It’s a little hard to get into, you understand,” Ignis winced as Prompto let off more shots, keeping the daemons back. “And I apologize for the noise. We’re a little surrounded right now and Prompto is working as a temporary guard.”  
  
“ _You’re surrounded? By_ daemons _? What the_ hell _are you doing out at this time, are you looking to get yourselves killed?_ ”  
  
Gladio grimaced, and he looked like a child getting scolded by a parent for staying out past curfew. “It’s just something that happened, Cor, we didn’t plan this. Anyway, that’s not what we’re calling about.”  
  
“There’s something wrong with Noct,” Ignis said. “Not physically, he only has minor wounds at this moment, but something else is going on. He appears to be counting.”  
  
“ _Counting?_ ”  
  
“Yes, counting backwards, from ten. He was unaware of it at first, it seems. Not only that, but he seems almost sickly, and, it might just be my imagination, but the further he counts the worse he gets.”  
  
Cor was silent for a brief moment. “ _What are you surrounded by, exactly? What daemons do you know are there?_ ”  
  
“Mostly imps and goblins,” Ignis replied. “There are a few bigger daemons further back. Prompto thought he saw an arachne earlier.”  
  
“Noct keeps looking off to something, though,” Gladio added. “Don’t know what, we can’t see much of anything since it’s so dark out here.”  
  
“ _When you say he’s sickly, is he also cold? Maybe a little paranoid or frightened along with it?_ ”  
  
“Yes,” Ignis said. “Exactly that.”  
  
Noctis huffed, feeling a flash of annoyance with them all, that they would talk about him as if he was simply somewhere else instead of _right there_ beside them. “I _am_ here, you know.”  
  
“ _Noctis, what does it look like?_ ”  
  
“What?” Noctis frowned.  
  
But Cor’s voice seemed desperate as he hurried on, and that tone, coming from _Cor_ of all people, left Noctis feeling a chill that had nothing to do with that constant strange gaze he could feel on him. “ _What does the thing you keep looking at_ look _like?_ ” Cor was saying. “ _It’s important that you tell me._ ”  
  
“I don’t know!” Noctis groaned, then looked off to the darkness again, to that thing still staring at him with its sightless gaze—sightless because there were _holes_ where the eyes should be, it shouldn’t have been able to see him in the first place—and it’s grin was malicious and constant, but it was constant because there wasn’t any flesh to hide behind— “It looks—it’s like a skeleton?”  
  
Cor cursed suddenly. “ _Okay, listen to me very carefully,_ all _of you. There’s a reaper following you, and it’s latched onto Noctis._ ”  
  
“Whoa, what does that mean?” Prompto slowed down to walk beside them, glancing between the phone and the area around them. “What’s a reaper? What will it do?”  
  
“ _It’s a daemon, obviously. They’re not uncommon, but, unfortunately, you’ve stumbled across one of the more powerful ones, a reaper that can cast dark spells on others. Those are a lot more rare._ ”  
  
“What does that mean for Noct?” Ignis said sharply. “Why is he counting down?”  
  
“ _It’s the reaper, it has latched onto his mind and it’s the one making him count. It’s almost like a psychic link, it has literally latched onto him and it won’t let go._ ”  
  
“What happens if he finishes counting, Cor?” Gladio barked out, and at Cor’s following silence his mouth turned into a grim line, his eyes hardened. “Cor, what’ll happen if Noct reaches zero?”  
  
“ _Then he dies, and I_ mean _dies. No potions, no phoenix downs, no magic. It will be permanent, and nothing will bring him back._ ”  
  
The three of them stopped, and Noctis stopped with them, taking in their pale, shocked faces with a creeping feeling of hysteria. He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, that _this_ was how he was going to go out, after everything that had happened. And then they were staring at him, as if he would drop down at any moment, and Noctis stepped back. “Five,” he said. A sudden wave of nausea came with that simple little word, dizziness too, and he stumbled, grabbing onto Gladio’s arm to steady himself.  
  
Prompto’s eyes widened with panic. “Cor, how do we stop this?” he cried.  
  
“And why is he getting ill?” Ignis said.  
  
“ _It’s the countdown, the further down he gets, the worse he will feel. His body is shutting down._ ”  
  
“How do we fucking _stop_ it?” Prompto yelled.  
  
“ _Kill that reaper, damn it. You_ cannot _run away from it, it’ll still have its connection with Noctis, but if you kill it then the link will sever and the countdown will stop._ ”  
  
Gladio was holding onto Noctis now with one arm, propping him up. “We can’t _see_ it, Cor. It’s staying in the dark and it won’t come out.”  
  
“ _Unless you want Noctis to_ die _, then you will find a way. And do it_ fast _._ ”  
  
Ignis’s jaw was clenched and his eyes were hard, thoughtful, as he stared out into the dark, almost as if he was _glaring_ at the reaper out there. “All right, we’ll call you back once this is finished,” he said and then promptly hung up on Cor, he hung up on the _gods damned Immortal_.  
  
The daemons were becoming restless again, chattering and scuttling along the edges. A few jumped out, only to be knocked back by both Gladio and Prompto, but there was a definite change in the air. They could clearly sense the growing panic within the four of them and it made them excited.  
  
Gladio had handed the jacket-lantern off to Noctis, and he clutched at it warily, held it out in front of him and squinted against the light. “What are we doing?” he asked, and it was both horrifying and humiliating how _shaky_ his voice sounded, how his hands trembled.  
  
Ignis had an arm around his waist, holding him close and propping him up against him, which was fairly useful considering how weak his legs felt. “They’re going to take out as many as they can,” he murmured.  
  
Noctis shook his head and looked up at him. “They’ll get hurt. We need to help.”  
  
“You’re _dying_ , Noct, we can’t—” Ignis’s voice broke off and he swallowed visibly. “We can’t risk anything else happening to you.”  
  
“But I don’t think they can see the reaper.”  
  
Sure enough, ahead of them, Gladio and Prompto were making good work, shooting and swinging at he daemons, knocking them down, killing them, dwindling their numbers, clearly fuelled by their fear and concern.  
  
But neither one of them even made a move towards the reaper. The skeletal figure stood there, as still as a statue, unfazed by the chaos around it. It simply stared at Noctis, still waiting, still patient.  
  
“I’ve gotta kill it,” Noctis murmured.  
  
Ignis looked at him sharply. “What? Don’t be foolish.”  
  
“I can see it, it’s getting clearer with each number,” Noctis said. He pretended that his hands weren’t shaking, that his palms weren’t slick with sweat. “If I’m the only one who can see it, then I’m the only one who can _stop_ it.”  
  
“I doubt you could even _lift_ your sword to fight anything right now, Noct.”  
  
Noctis glared at him. “I have to _try_.”  
  
Ignis’s jaw clenched as he stared ahead of them, as his eyes tracked over their friends fighting off the daemons, and his hand tightened where it gripped at the side of Noctis’s waist. “And just how are you going to get near it, if it prefers to stay in the dark? You take your light with you, you will only push it further back.”  
  
And the answer was so, _so_ simple and yet so very terrifying, Noctis actually laughed at it, he let the hysteria wash through him, because everything was just so _fucked_ it was ridiculous. “Easy,” he said, and his voice was strangled and hoarse. “We turn the lights out. I turn my light out. Go into the dark.”  
  
He was whirled around suddenly, Ignis’s hands fisted in his jacket and pulling him close, the makeshift lantern squashed between them. “Are you _mad_?” Ignis yelled, and _gods_ , he sounded _furious_. Noctis had never heard him sound like that before, and they had known each other since they were little. “You go out there without a light and you will _die_ , Noct.”  
  
“I’m going to die anyway!” Noctis yelled back. He raised his own hands, tried to shove back at Ignis, but his body wouldn’t quite cooperate, his limbs were like lead, like treading through water, and he still felt so, so nauseous, any slight movement made him feel like he was going to throw up. “I finish my countdown, I’m through, isn’t that it? Gladio and Prompto can’t see the reaper, I’m sure you can’t either. What other choice is there?”  
  
Ignis looked away, teeth clenched together, eyes anguished. “Damn it,” he hissed. He was staring at the area the reaper was in, at the area Noctis always found his eyes drawn to, but he knew Ignis couldn’t see anything standing there.  
  
A wave of sheer _ice_ ran over Noctis, from his head to his toes, down to his very bones, and it was so, _so_ cold. His hands clenched in Ignis’s shirt and he fell forwards into him, his breath stolen away as his legs buckled.  
  
“Noct? Noct!”  
  
Death was supposed to be cold, right?  
  
“Noct,” Ignis’s hands were cupping his jaw, lifting his head up, the jacket-lantern on the ground beside them, discarded and forgotten as Ignis tried to get his attention. “Noct.”  
  
“Four,” Noctis gasped. He hated it, he _hated_ it. The words came out no matter how hard he tried to keep them back, nearly biting off his own tongue in the process. It was as if that damned _reaper_ had a control over his voice, and wasn’t that scary? Noctis felt a flash of anger through it all, a brief spark of _heat_ , and he shoved at Ignis. “ _Four_ , Ignis. Four!”  
  
“What’s going on?” Prompto was gasping, coming back to stand over them, gun at the ready, eyes tracking the darkness.  
  
Gladio came to stand on the other side of them, his broadsword out, body tense. “He holding up okay?”  
  
“No,” Ignis said, voice strained, and Noctis wondered if he was speaking to them or to _him_. “He’s on four.”  
  
“ _Shit_!” Prompto cried. “What do we do?”  
  
Noctis stared at Ignis and Ignis stared right back. What a sight they must have made, he thought distantly, crouched down on the forest floor, clutching at each other, daemons closing in on every side. It would be a great final moment, going out with a bang, except he didn’t _want_ it to be his final moment, he didn’t want to die out here in the _dark_ and leave his friends behind to face even more potential danger.  
  
And if he died, would the reaper leave them alone? Or would it simply move onto the next victim?  
  
The thought left him colder than anything the daemon could do to him.  
  
Then Ignis glanced up at their friends and said, “How are the two of you at fighting in the dark?”  
  
Noctis let out a breath and leaned forwards, resting his head on Ignis’s shoulder as he tried to catch his breath back. His heart seemed to have tripled in rate, it was pounding so hard. But what bothered him the most, what he couldn’t get used to, was the _cold_. If he could just get warm again, if they could just be at the haven already, surrounding the campfire and playing King’s Knight and laughing over how stupid this whole thing really was—  
  
The campfire.  
  
“Are you kidding me?” Prompto was saying frantically. “I can’t _shoot_ at things in the dark, Iggy. I need light to see where I’m aiming.”  
  
Gladio seemed just as disturbed. “I mean, sure, I could fight without seeing my enemies, but can _he_ even fight right now? Is he strong enough to use his sword, or _any_ weapon?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Ignis said. “But we cannot wait around any longer, he’s getting worse—”  
  
“I’m _fine_ ,” Noctis cut in, and he knew he must have looked at least _slightly_ terrible as he stared up at them, if their expressions were anything to go by. “Just someone help me up and let’s get this over with. Sure you guys wouldn’t appreciate dragging a corpse back to the campsite.”  
  
“Dude,” Prompto said, his voice strangled and shaking. “That’s not funny.”  
  
“No, it’s not. Now help me up, damn it.”  
  
Prompto was the one to help him, wrapping an arm around his waist and wrapping Noctis’s left arm around his shoulders, acting as a crutch for him. Except becoming upright so suddenly played _hell_ on his senses and Noctis lurched to the side as he threw up, wincing at the taste and at the muttered curses coming from the others.  
  
“Gods, you’re shaking so much,” Prompto murmured. “I got you, okay? No matter what.”  
  
They thought he was going to die. They were honestly looking at him and thinking that this would be the last time they would see him alive, pale and shaking and throwing up in the middle of a forest at night, surrounded by daemons.  
  
_Going out with a bang,_ Noctis thought again, and he smiled.  
  
“So the plan is to get him close enough to run his sword through this thing?” Gladio muttered behind him. “It’s not going to work.”  
  
“A little faith, perhaps,” Ignis replied.  
  
Prompto tensed, but he followed with Noctis as he turned to face the reaper. Still as patient as ever, was his old friend. Patient and waiting, almost like a personification of death itself. He could almost imagine it extending its arms, wanting to embrace him before the end.  
  
Like hell would he ever let it touch him.  
  
Behind them, Ignis and Gladio were working on the lantern, reluctantly turning the lights out, and the daemons came closer, letting out noises of excitement and happiness.  
  
“Just before the lights go out,” Noctis whispered, his voice only for Prompto, “Push me forwards.”  
  
“What?” Prompto hissed, his hand hesitating where he had been turning Noctis’s flashlight off. “No way, are you crazy?”  
  
“Trust me,” Noctis looked at him, and, yeah, this new plan of his might be absolutely insane, it might not actually work, but it was all he had. “I have a plan.”  
  
Prompto bit his lip and looked down, his face lit up by his own flashlight. “If you die on me—” he choked out, and the light shone suspiciously in his eyes as he blinked rapidly, “I’ll never forgive you if you die on me, Noct.”  
  
Noctis smiled at him, even though his chest ached a little at the sniff Prompto tried to fight back, and he wrapped his arms around his friend’s shoulders, holding him close, pressing his lips to his ear as he whispered, “Don’t let me die, then. You’ll need to work fast, okay?”  
  
Prompto tensed underneath his arms. “What?”  
  
“ _Trust_ me,” Noctis repeated. “You need light to see where you’re aiming, right?”  
  
“Ready when you are,” Gladio called out. “I swear to all the gods, kid, this better work.”  
  
Prompto’s arms wrapped around his waist as he fell into him, stumbling backwards a little under the added weight. “Noct?”  
  
“Three,” Noctis could only whisper, and it felt like his breath was being stolen away, it felt like every breath he took was an effort. Prompto wrapped his arms around him tightly, burying his face in Noctis’s neck briefly, then he was maneuvering him, turning him around as the light began to darken when someone behind them turned their flashlight off.  
  
There it was, even more solid than before. A skeletal figure, empty sockets staring straight at him, straight _into_ him, scythe held off to the side as if it wasn’t too bothered by him, as if it wasn’t _threatened_ by him and felt no need to keep itself ready for a fight. As if there wouldn’t _be_ a fight.  
  
Well too fucking bad.  
  
“Now,” Noctis whispered.  
  
“Now!” Prompto yelled and he shoved him forwards.  
  
He stumbled forwards as the final light went out, and while everything else went dark, he could still see the reaper, as he thought he would. It didn’t move away from him, didn’t step back, didn’t run away, and it _should_ have done.  
  
Daemons were closing in on every side, rushing towards him, and Noctis summoned a fire spell, as powerful as he could make it, and he threw it at the reaper before it could catch on, before it could react. The spell hit it, straight into its body, flames bursting out through every gap in its bones, and the explosion sent Noctis flying backwards as the daemon went up in flames, writhing, shrieking as it flailed in pain. The daemons around them were caught up in the blast and they went up in smoke, dying within an instant, and their companions were turning around and running away with frightened screams.  
  
As Noctis hit the ground, he saw the flashlights come back on and Prompto was firing, and Gladio and Ignis were swinging their weapons at the reaper, the flames making it visible to them, the pain making it unable to quickly flee from them. Noctis struggled to lift his head, his vision fading in and out, his ears ringing, but he could make his friends out against the light of the fire. They were unrelenting against it, every blow hitting their mark, and the reaper stumbled with every hit, every bullet, every swipe of a blade until it finally, _finally_ buckled, letting out a shriek as it dissolved into smoke.  
  
And there was a tug inside him, and he didn’t feel so cold anymore.  
  
Noctis sighed, letting his head fall back against the leaves, his vision still fading in and out. He had no hope of moving his body now, that final spell had zapped the rest of his energy, but at least it had _worked_.  
  
“Is he dead? Oh _shit_ , is he _dead_?” he could hear Prompto yelling, leaves being kicked up and branches cracking as boots came closer to him. There were hands on him, on his forehead, his cheeks, his neck, checking his pulse.  
  
“No, he’s alive,” Ignis said. “But we need to get him back to camp _now_.”  
  
Noctis opened his eyes and stared up at them, smiling when they met his eyes. “Hey,” he breathed.  
  
“Hey yourself, man,” Prompto said. His hand touched Noctis’s shoulder briefly, squeezing him. “Gods, you gave me a heart attack.”  
  
“But you did it,” Ignis said, and there was something proud in his eyes and in his voice as he gazed down at him.  
  
Noctis grinned at them tiredly. “I did, didn’t I?” he managed to say, even though every word felt like an effort. He could barely keep his eyes open now. “Can we go now?”  
  
“Yeah, now that that _thing_ is gone,” Gladio muttered. Arms were suddenly underneath Noctis, pulling him close to a broad chest and lifting him up into the air, and he was powerless against it, he couldn’t fight it, couldn’t move, exhaustion trying to pull him under. Gladio looked down at him with concern. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you back to camp, safe and sound.”  
  
“Here, I’ve got the jacket,” Prompto said. “We going now?”  
  
“Yeah, let’s move.”  
  
Unable to stop it, Noctis let exhaustion pull him under, at least pretty proud of himself that he had managed to avoid it becoming his _last_ sleep.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
When he woke up, he was back in the tent. He was sandwiched between Prompto and Gladio, both of them warm and sleeping and, dear gods, _snoring_. Noctis fought back a groan, but he couldn’t stop the smile from forming on his lips.  
  
It felt good to be back here.  
  
He pushed his hands under him and sat up, careful not to bump into either one of them. Ignis was sat by the open flap, staring out at the campfire, and the sky outside was barely showing the first signs of dawn. “Haven’t you slept?” Noctis said, or he _meant_ to say, but it came out a little rough and slurred and could have barely passed for _any_ language, really.  
  
Ignis looked at him, smiling faintly. “I wanted to keep watch.”  
  
“Should’ve slept.”  
  
“I couldn’t.”  
  
Noctis looked down at the blanket pooling in his lap, grateful that one of his friends had decided to get them out tonight, but he still felt surprisingly cold, a chill rolling over him and making him shiver. Ignis was still watching him, eyes unreadable, and Noctis met his gaze shyly. “Can you help me sit by the fire? Still feel kind of weak, and I want to get warm.”  
  
Ignis tipped his head. “Of course.”  
  
His legs were shaky underneath him as they moved out of the tent, Ignis helping to support him as they walked over to the campfire chairs. “I could get you some coffee,” the older man said as he carefully sat Noctis down. “Or some tea.”  
  
“No, I’m good, thanks,” Noctis smiled up at him, then winced. “I kinda passed out, huh?”  
  
“That you did,” Ignis sighed as he settled himself in the closest chair, staring into the fire. “I imagine using too much magic, and then the spell the reaper cast on you, must have taken a huge toll on your body. We’ve checked you over, however, and we consulted with Cor. A little more rest, and you should be back on your feet in no time, I dare say.”  
  
Noctis bit his lip and nodded, staring at Ignis. “Hey, I, uh—I’m sorry.”  
  
Ignis looked over at him in surprise. “What for?”  
  
“For that...whole mess back there, and for not letting you in on the plan, and for nearly _dying_ on you guys…”  
  
His friend smiled slowly, almost amused. “You are forgiven, although there isn’t really anything to forgive you for.”  
  
“Ah, but...you forgive me anyway? That...doesn’t make any sense.”  
  
Ignis chuckled and shook his head. “Just promise never to do anything so reckless ever again.”  
  
“Nah, can’t do that,” Noctis grinned at him. “You know how I get.”  
  
“Yes, unfortunately.”  
  
There was a noise behind them, the flapping of the tent opening, and Prompto said, “What the hell are you guys doing out here? You got something against sleep, or what?”  
  
Noctis looked over his shoulder at the blond. “Me hate sleep? You know I never could, Prompto.”  
  
“Damn skippy,” Prompto grinned at him. His smile faded, however, as he got close enough to drop his hand to Noctis’s shoulder. “You okay, though? You still look pale.”  
  
Gladio was coming out behind him, heading over to the campfire and sitting down in one of the chairs, but his eyes never left Noctis. “Yeah, you should be resting. You nearly died, what, a few hours ago?”  
  
Prompto’s fingers clenched on Noctis’s shoulder a little at that, as if he hated the reminder, and Noctis shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said. “Really. Still tired, yeah, but I just want to stay by the fire a little longer. Warm up a bit. Maybe stick around to watch the sun rise.”  
  
Prompto was staring down at him, looking as serious as Noctis had ever seen him, but he smirked after a moment. “Yeah, ten gil says you’ll be snoring away within an hour.”  
  
“Maybe even _half_ an hour,” Ignis chimed in with a smile.  
  
“Nah, twenty minutes,” Gladio chuckled.  
  
Noctis shook his head, staring at them all. “Seriously?”  
  
It was actually fifteen minutes until his head was lolling to the side, when he was warmed by the fire and content, his friends talking away quietly, unconcerned, their voices no longer tinged with fear and panic. And they were _safe_ , alive and mostly unharmed, bathed in light and within the safety of the haven, far out of the reach of any daemons for the rest of the night.  
  
What more could he ever ask for?  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to point out any spelling mistakes/grammar issues/inconsistencies/etc!
> 
> You can find me at tumblr: ivorydice.tumblr.com


End file.
